


And You, Again (Bucky’s life from Feb ‘06- Jul ‘06)

by dadjeandilf



Series: And Them [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 20:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19302958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadjeandilf/pseuds/dadjeandilf
Summary: He was beginning to realize that he wasn’t ‘Steve’s’ Bucky anymore. He was an entirely new and damaged Bucky, one that Steve was growing to resent. He was nothing but a reminder of the past, of what Steve lost, of all the things that were missing; he was a stranger.Another go around.





	And You, Again (Bucky’s life from Feb ‘06- Jul ‘06)

Feb 26, 2006

 

" _Hey Buck. I'm just calling to say hi, and to see how you're doing. I haven't heard from you in a while so... I know you said you needed space and I respect that. The house is so quiet without you I-"_

 

_"It's me again. My last message got cut off. I just wanted to say that I miss you and I love you. Ok, goodbye."_

_"Hi Bucky, it's Sunday. I'm not busy today, or really any day, if you wanna grab lunch. I know we talked about space but I... I guess I'm not good at staying away from you. You're all I think about, I hope that doesn't come across as creepy. Anyways give me a call back as soon as you can."_

_"It's Steve, you probably know that by now. It's been a few weeks... I decided to pack up the apartment. I'm going to be living with Tony and B_ ruce now. Got a little part-time job at the bar downtown. I'm a bartender now! It's fun, you'd like it. Come see me sometime."

 

_"Hey Buck, I love you, give me a call when you can."_

 

Bucky stared coldly at the answering machine, lips tight, fist clenched, knuckles white. Steve, he knew that name, it was right there in the forefront of all his unfinished memories. That name repeated itself like a song in his head, made his heart flutter, made his fingers twitch.

 

Those first disorienting moments in the ICU, the heaviness, the soreness, Bucky's bloodied clothes, the sadness and the silence that overcame everything; Steve, he was there. His face was so familiar to Bucky, those blue eyes, full lips, pink cheeks, the shape of his shoulders and the narrowness of his waist. Bucky remembered touching that waist, the sturdiness of his frame, the way it made him feel; safe, loved.

 

But that didn't change the fact that Steve Rogers was a stranger, a distance recollection at best. No matter how hard Bucky reached, he couldn't find his connection to Steve, he couldn't figure out how they came to be, how they met, how they fell in love, he didn't even know his middle name.

 

But Bucky didn't want to let him go, they could start over, they wanted to anyway.

 

So Steve took him home after the accident, held his aching hand, caressed his face, touched the bandages that covered his head, kissed him softly; so softly, Bucky had to reach out to touch him, had make sure he was still there.

 

Steve carded his fingers through Bucky's hair, nosed the nape of his neck at night, rubbed his back in the morning, touched his face, touched his hands, touched his mouth, touched him again, and again, and again until Bucky was sure Steve was hardly a stranger anymore.

 

And that was enough for him, the start of their new relationship, Steve was enough for Bucky. He was the constant, the familiarity within the newness, the safe place in his new terrifying reality, it was all he needed, wanted even.

 

But it didn't last, the honeymoon chapter they were in, something changed. He remembered waking up one morning to the sound of Steve crying. The blonde had his head in his hands, face red, cheeks soggy, shoulders trembling. It was like walking in on your parents fighting, it was jarring, upsetting, something you didn't expect to see. Then Steve started keeping his distance. He wouldn't nose the nape of Bucky's neck, or rub his back, or peck his lips, or even shake his goddamn hand. It didn't help that their conversations started and stopped within the same breath. Bucky could've talked to Steve for hours, he loved the sound of his voice, the way it triggered the smallest memories- memories of the blonde saying "I love you," or just a simple "Hi." But Steve kept their interactions brief, cold, leaving Bucky to wonder what went wrong. 

 

He wanted to deny it at first, Steve's coldness, gave him every excuse possible. But after seeing the way Steve's eyes fell whenever they were together, the way his body stiffened, the way he curled into himself... after realizing that Steve wasn't going to call him to back to bed, or hold him close, or call him "sweetheart," Bucky couldn't deny it anymore.

 

He was beginning to realize that he wasn't _Steve's_ Bucky' anymore. He was an entirely new and damaged Bucky, one that Steve was growing to resent. He was nothing but a reminder of the past, of what Steve lost, of all the things that were missing; he was a stranger.

 

He would never be the Bucky who left campus that night, the one who's hands slipped from the wheel. He'd never be the Bucky who slid cold his hands into Steve coat for warmth, the Bucky who laughed at Steve's horrible jokes, the Bucky who liked to fuck in the shower, or wrap himself up in Steve, or sit for hours and hours and be the subject of his paintings. All the stories Steve had told him, all the memories- Bucky wasn't that, he would never be that.

 

and then, things really fell apart when he lost his arm.

 

He couldn't even look Steve in the eyes, there were tears, he knew it, but he couldn't look. He was terrified of himself, hysterical, he didn't know where to turn for comfort. He kept holding onto the idea that Steve was this... this savior, and that he would make everything better, that the accident was nothing, that they could start over, that they could be better. But he was wrong, Steve was nothing more than an innocent bystander, a person who got swept up in something messy, something way beyond himself. Steve was carrying a burden that no man should have to carry, and Bucky hated himself for being that burden.

 

So he did what he thought was best, for the both of them, he left.

 

He fought Steve's protests, fought his pleads, and his crying, and his shaking, and his begging, and he just... he left.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Steve?" Bucky asked, voice barley there.

 

"Oh, no, it's Bruce. Hey Bucky... I'll grab Steve, give me one sec," he said, leaving Bucky to let out a shaky sigh.

 

He felt guilt well up inside of him. He shouldn't have called back. Steve was doing better, he said so himself. He had a job, had people to take care of him, had a chance at something normal. Bucky would only make things worse like he always did, he'd make Steve long for the old Bucky, the Bucky who might as well have died in the crash.

 

And the worst part is, Bucky would long for Steve all the same.

 

"-ello?"

 

It was almost gross, the way Steve's voice caused goosebumps to rise along Bucky's skin. He'd only said a word, a single insignificant word. But that word wrapped itself around Bucky like a warm hug, it worked its way into the hollow of Bucky's chest, it made him remember why leaving was so hard.

 

"Hey, it's me," Bucky mumbled, biting his lip gently.

 

"Bucky," Steve sighed, causing the brunette to smile, "It's so good to hear from you."

 

' _It's good to hear from you too, I miss you,_ ' he wanted to say, But he couldn't bring himself to do it, so he settled with:

 

"Thanks."

 

"How've things been going?" Steve asked, "your mom mentioned something about therapy?"

 

Bucky shrugged even though Steve couldn't see it.

 

"Yeah, couple times a week."

 

"That's amazing. I'm proud of you. I miss you lots, I'm sure you heard the embarrassing messages I left," Steve chuckled, the lowest part of his voice sending chills down Bucky's spine.

 

"Yeah I..." he started, but he couldn't finish, he didn't trust himself to say the right thing.

 

Neither of them spoke for a while, they just sat between static and rustling. It gave Bucky a moment to realize just how fucked this whole thing was, how selfish he was being, he wasn't Steve's Bucky anymore.

 

"You been eating?" Steve continued, "I don't need to come down there and spoon feed you do I?"

 

Bucky's eyes grew large.

 

"N-no."

 

"You ok?" Steve asked.

 

"Yeah, I mean yes," Bucky responded. He was itching to hang up, he shouldn't have called back. He left for a reason, he left because things weren't working, he left because he knew it was the right thing to do. He left so Steve could move on, "I was just calling to say," he paused, closing his eyes, "to say our answering machine is getting pretty full..."

 

"Oh," Steve said slowly.

 

Bucky felt his chest tighten up, his heart drop.

 

"And I'd just appreciate it... if you stopped calling and leaving messages," he said, lying through his teeth.

 

Steve didn't respond at first so Bucky waited patiently on the other end of the phone. He chewed on his lip in anticipation, something his therapist had told him to avoid making a habit of: he did it anyway.

 

"Oh, ok no problem, sorry about that I, I guess I just..."

 

Another pause.

 

"Alright well I should get going," Bucky said, he had to get out while he could, while he had the willpower.

 

"So soon? I was hoping we could set up a time to see each other," Steve said, he was trying, he was trying like he always did. Bucky's heart swelled for it.

 

"Now's not a good time for me," Bucky explained, a sad smile working it's way into his face.

 

"Ok."

 

"Ok, Bye Steve."

 

"Bye Buck, I love you so much," he whispered, then there was nothing, just static and emptiness.

\\\\\

 

Feb 27, 2006

 

_Someone was knocking on Bucky's door. It drove him out of his sleep, the sound of a heavy fist colliding with wood. He gasped, chest heaving as he sat up, body rigid with the initial fear that came with being startled awake. He paused, listened to the sound of rain conspiring against his window, sighed, then pushed himself out of bed._

_At first he considered a weapon of some sort; his bedside lamp, a hairbrush, the fly swatter maybe-_

_"-Bucky!"_

_But then he heard his name, muffled and heartfelt from outside, a small half-smile working it's way into his face as he quickly ran to answer the door._

_"Bucky! Buck-" Steve said, stopping mid shout, mouth quirking up into a smile as soon as he laid eyes on the brunette. His clothes were soaked, his hair, his face, all freshly showered in rain. Bucky stared at him in shock before taking a moment to rub the sleep form his eyes._

_"What's wrong Stevie? What time is it?" He asked, voice low and filled with concern._

_"It's 12:01," Steve breathed._

_"Oh," Bucky said, shaking his head a little in disbelief, "it's late you shouldn't be out in the rain-"_

_"But It's your birthday," Steve interrupted. He looked at Bucky with those impossibly soft and romantic eyes, his smile never wavering, "Happy birthday."_

_Bucky looked at Steve for a moment, his mouth falling open, his eyes no doubt going the size of dinner plates._

_"Oh my god," he whispered, laughing as he leaned in to kiss Steve, lips wet and soft, and slippery from the rain. They stayed like that, Steve's wet clothes dampening Bucky's dry ones, Bucky's warm mouth spreading heat to Steve's frozen face, the both of them lost in each other._

_"You remembered," Bucky said, wiping Steve's mouth, Steve's face, Steve's ears, drying them the best he could. Steve leaned into his touch, taking his hand and resting it on his cheek._

_"Course I did Buck," he said, running his thumb along Bucky's temple, skin soft, hands gentle, "I love you."_

_"I love you too, thank you."_

 

"Tell me about him."

 

Bucky's head snapped up in an instant. Him, his therapist wanted to talk about Steve. Bucky sucked in a sharp painful breath, his fingernails biting into the leather sofa, marking it. Nobody asked him about Steve, ever. There was this unspoken agreement he had with everyone he came across: 'we can talk about anything but him.' The gruesome details of the accident, the reports on his head injury, his memory loss, his arm, his inability to leave the house, anything, anything but him.

 

"I see you're still wearing the ring he gave you, does he still wear his ring?" She asked, her her voice relaxed, face neutral.

 

Bucky blinked rapidly, swallowing thickly, "Yeah, I think so," he said, his grip on the couch loosening.

 

His therapist smiled, nodding thoughtfully as she took notes. Bucky tried his best to smile back.

 

"It's beautiful," she continued, "I understand why you'd want to keep it on."

 

Bucky averted his eyes then, shrugging. She was getting at something- what exactly? He didn't know for sure. She seemed to know more about his situation than she was letting on, it made him wary.

 

He looked down at his ring anyway, it was on his other hand now, for obvious reasons. It looked so innocent and platonic on that hand, no longer the symbol of love and commitment that it used to be.

 

Steve had given it to him after the crash, told him to hold onto it, to keep it. So he did, he kept it. Even if they weren't husbands anymore, even if they couldn't attest to the vows they made; the ring was his- the one thing he knew for certain was his after losing almost everything else.

 

"James, I can't help you if you don't talk to me," his therapist explained, voice conveying sympathy.

 

Bucky turned his focus to her again, eyes moist, tears staining his cheeks, a few labored breaths working their way into his chest.

 

"I just..." he began, shaking his head.

 

"Why don't you start with the memory you recalled recently," She said, jotting down a few more notes. Bucky heard a groan rise from somewhere deep in his chest- it caught him by surprise. He wasn't ready for that, for this, for any of it.

 

"l..I, no."

 

His therapist paused for a moment.

 

"Is it a painful memory?" She inquired, "An uncomfortable one?"

 

"It's, I just can't talk about that... today," Bucky mumbled, voice nearly gone, eyes falling to the floor again in defeat.

 

"Alright let's move on-"

\\\\\

 

Feb 28, 2006

 

"James darling," Bucky's mother called, her voice traveling up the stairs, "Steve's here."

 

It took his brain a moment to register what was happening, but when it did, Bucky felt his chest tighten.

 

He held his breath still, heart charging forward at an unprecedented pace. He told him it was a bad time, he told him he needed space, he-

 

"James?" His mother called again, "come down for a bit, being social will do you some good."

 

The last time Bucky spoke to Steve, face to face that is, was to tell him that he was leaving. It hadn't been a pleasant experience, Steve had his arms wrapped around Bucky, their cheeks touching, "I love you," spilling from the blonde's mouth, sobbing, and shouting, and just everything messy that came with breakups.

 

Now Steve was there, in his house; it was like picking a scab, opening up an old wound.

 

Bucky stood at the top of the stairs, peering down, listening. He couldn't hear much, only whispers and the occasional laugh. His feet began carrying him downstairs, each step creaking and groaning under his weight.

 

The voices got louder, the laughter clear and genuine, he could even hear the sound of food sizzling away in the oven; the smell permeating through the air. He felt his stomach rumble then, his mom was cooking something Italian, something nostalgic and hearty.

 

Bucky stepped into the kitchen, his guard up, a small frown gracing his lips as he watched Steve chat with his mother over the dishes. He stood there for some time, his mother scrubbing, rinsing - Steve drying. He listened to them talk about Steve's new job, his plans for the upcoming months; the kinds of things mother-in-laws talked about with their sons. It made Bucky's head spin, it felt so surreal.

 

"Sweetheart," his mother said suddenly, pulling him out of his stupor.

 

Without hesitation Steve whipped around to face him, eyes going dopey and wide at the sight of him. He smiled a toothy smile, taking a few steps in Bucky's direction, arms opening up.

 

"Buck!" He said, pulling the brunette in for a hug, "how've you been?"

 

Bucky hugged him back, stiff and methodical.

 

"I'm," he started, pausing to think, "I'm good."

 

When Steve pulled away there were tears in his eyes. Bucky watched as the blonde bit his lip, playing down his emotions with a quick cough to clear his throat.

 

"I really wanted to see you," Steve said, he sounded desperate, his voice broken and quiet.

 

"You did?"

 

"Yeah course I did. I do. I hope you're not too mad I just stopped by unannounced... we never agreed on a time to meet," he explained.

 

Bucky nodded, looking down at his feet. He couldn't reply, half his brain was dead set on never wanting to see Steve again, the other half was thrilled to have him standing in his kitchen.

 

"Are you boys hungry?" Bucky's mother asked, her small frame leaning against the counter, "lunch is about ready."

 

Steve pulled his eyes away from Bucky long enough to flash her a grateful smile.

 

"Starving, thank you Mrs. Barnes."

 

They ate homemade lasagna and toasted bread in silence. Bucky picked at his plate, struggling to eat properly with one hand while Steve practically scarfed his food down by the shovelful.

 

Bucky evaluated the situation in front of him. It seemed odd, him and Steve sitting down for lunch, it felt like an adult play-date. It all came across as forced, like it was orchestrated with ulterior motives. He didn't want to dwell on those thoughts though, he'd only rile himself up. So he sipped his water and scraped at his dish, glancing up every now and then to sneak a look at Steve.

 

"Your haircut looks nice," the blonde said suddenly. Yeah, Bucky had it cropped short, it was the hospitals doing really, they needed better access to his head wounds. He ran a hand over it, frowning at its length, it had taken him years to grow out his hair, it was his best asset, it's what made him... him.

 

Bucky shoved another bite of lasagna in his mouth, nodding thoughtfully before speaking:

 

"Thanks, it's not really a haircut it's more like...," he paused, waving his fork around for emphasis, "well, there were some complications with my stitches and-"

 

"You went back to the hospital?" Steve asked, though his question came off more like an accusation.

 

Bucky paused, nodding again, slowly this time, making sure to swallow his food before he began choking on it due to stress.

 

"Bucky, why didn't you tell me?" Steve asked.

 

Bucky didn't have an answer so he simply shrugged, setting his fork down, his hand trembling.

 

"Well I... I, are you okay?" Steve asked, another question Bucky couldn't answer. He tried his best to nod but he's sure it came off more like a twitch.

 

"I would've come with you, I told you I was free-"

 

Bucky felt guilty, again. He always felt that way when it came to Steve. He loved him, there was no denying that, wanted what was best for him, tried to keep his distance, tried to keep him safe. But he failed, time and time again, always let him down, never seeming to be enough. He wanted nothing more than to crawl out of his skin, to escape Steve's disappointment, to be the old Bucky, the better Bucky. But he couldn't, and he felt trapped because of it.

 

Bucky felt tears rolling down his cheeks, he wasn't in his chair anymore, he was sure of it. He heard a the faint sound of crashing plates and clanking silverware, a tremor coursing through his body. He felt someonecaress the back of his head, his hand, heard his name being called in the distance, "Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,"

 

"James!" His mother cried, voice close proximity in and leaking with fear.

 

And that's the last thing he heard beforecollapsing on the floor.

\\\\\

 

Mar 03, 2006

 

Steve stopped calling after that, stopped coming over too.

 

Bucky should've been relieved, he needed Steve to move on, needed him to come to terms with the fact that 'his' Bucky was dead and gone. But he wasn't, relived that is, Bucky needed Steve now more than he ever had. The way things ended that day at lunch, how lonely he felt waking up in the hospital again, he never realized just how badly he wanted to hold Steve's hand, to have him there as a comfort. It was sick, Bucky knew that, but he needed Steve, wanted him so fucking much.

 

So he did what he promised himself he'd never do again: he called Steve. Called him once, and then once more, and then a third time before he grew tired of getting sent away by the answering machine.

 

"Darling why don't you go visit him at work? I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see you," his mother suggested, Bucky could tell his moping was making her upset.

 

He decided not to go. Steve had a life outside of Bucky's mess, he was moving on after all, the lack of communication was confirmation of that. So Bucky didn't go, he stayed home, huddled over the answering machine.

 

The next day was no better though, and Bucky began to feel worried. He tried not to let his worry show, but every time the phone rang he was at it in an instant.

 

"Hello?" He would say, heart beating out of his chest, but it was never Steve on the other end.

 

"James, go on. See your beautiful husband, tell him I said hello," his mother encouraged that evening, handing her son a jacket to keep warm.

 

Bucky wanted to tell her, wanted to explain for the 500th time that they were separated. But she was too good for that, so optimistic, he couldn't continue to break her heart, so he smiled and nodded, accepting the jacket.

 

The trip was troubling to say the least. Being in public, missing a limb, it was harder than Bucky expected. He got a few stares, some lingering ones even, but most of his anxiety stemmed from within. He was ashamed, felt less human somehow, roaming the streets without an arm, the left sleeve of his jacket hollow, carried in every direction by the wind.

 

Eventually he made it, the small bar where Steve worked. He kept his head low, eyes on the ground, trying his best to avoid running into anyone or anything. He began to shake again, he felt ridiculous, for all he knew Steve wasn't even working that day. He should've gotten his schedule, called first, anything-

 

"Bucky?"

 

Bucky hesitated, held his breath, eyes, then head, then shoulders, all turning upward at the sound of Steve's voice. He was behind the bar, his brows furrowed, a small apron tied around his narrow hips.

 

Bucky approached the bar then, tugging on his left sleeve out of habit, forcing a smile into his face.

 

"Yeah, hey Steve," he said, immediately taking a seat on the bar stool. The place was fairly empty, it was a weekday after all, most people were at work, or school, or anywhere in between; Bucky was sat amongst older folks and cob webs.

 

"What're you doing here? Is everything ok?" Steve asked, eyes roaming over Bucky's face. He was inspecting him, Bucky could tell, it was the same look the nurses would give him each and every time he landed himself back in the ER.

 

Bucky swallowed, fidgeting with a discarded coaster, avoiding eye contact with Steve.

 

"You, uh," he began, sighing a bit, "haven't called or stopped by in a while. If it's because of my panic attack I understand it's... it's not ideal but I can't make them stop and I-"

 

"How could you ever think that, Buck?," Steve asked, taking Bucky's hand in his, "I would never- Something happened back at home and I needed to look after Tony for a while, that's all," he explained, rubbing small tender circles into Bucky's palm.

 

Bucky shrugged, then nodded.

 

Steve wasn't ignoring him then, he was just caught up in his own life, the life Bucky wanted him to have. He felt so fucking stupid.

 

"Ok. Well that's... ok well I should leave," Bucky mumbled, taking his hand back and shoving it into his jacket pocket.

 

"No, don't leave," Steve pleaded, making his way around the bar, grabbing Bucky by the shoulder, "Who uh... brought you here?"

 

Bucky paused at the feeling of Steves hand, warm and sturdy and comforting, then he replied with:

 

"I took a bus."

 

"Oh Bucky," Steve sighed, his voice once again conveying disappointment. But this time it wasn't complete disappointment, there seemed to be concern laced in his tone.

 

Steve started at Bucky for a long while, his eyes continuing to flicker over his face before he sighed, nodding once.

 

"Alright, i'm telling my boss I need to leave early. I'm gonna take you home," he decided at last, already beginning to remove his apron.

 

Bucky's eyes went wide, his hand reaching out to touch Steve's shoulder, his sharp gasp causing the other man to pause.

 

"Don't I can-"

 

"I'm serious, stay put ok? I'll be back," Steve insisted, leaving Bucky by the bar.

 

Bucky considered leaving in the short time Steve was gone, considered going back out into that big world, taking the bus, stumbling home. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, Steve wanted to care for him and he wasn't strong enough to say no.

 

It made his heart swell, made him remember the honeymoon phase, the time before everything went to shit. It made him feel like 'Steve's' Bucky again; and that was a feeling he wasn't willing to let go of.

 

"When will I see you next," Bucky asked, looking out of the car window and up at his lonely house. He didn't want to spend another day without Steve, it was such a sudden shift, but he needed to be near him.

 

Steve caressed his neck, his thumb runningalong his throat, tender and affectionate.

 

"Whenever you want," he said lowly, giving Bucky a small smile, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

 

"Ok."

\\\\\

 

Mar 4, 2006

 

_Bucky bit down on his forearm, eyes wet and closed tightly; Steve's fingers pressed hard against the flesh of his hips. They hadn't done it like this before, face down, Bucky's hair a filthy sweaty mess, stuck to temples. It hurt, whatever they were doing, pain shooting up his back, a lingering ache between his thighs._

_But Steve was so deep, every inch of him pressed against Bucky, their skin on fire, heart swelling, deep groans filling the air. Steve seemed to be lost in him, taking as much of Bucky as he could without giving much in return. His hips stuttered, his grip on Bucky tightening, a sudden withdrawal and then a gasp as something warm and unwelcome hit Bucky's skin._

_Steve rolled off of him, satisfied, chest heaving, sweat glistening, a sigh escaping his lips. Bucky turned over slowly, his body a mess of aches and pains, his eyes red, mouth red, everything red and raw and so so painful. He shoved his hand between his legs, huffing out small gasps and groans before clenching hard and cumming all over his fingers._

_He took in some deep breaths then, head pounding, fists clenched, heart aching, aching for Steve, for his affection, even after everything that happened. He reached out to touch him, to touch his face, to show that he still loved him. But Steve was cold, and that's when Bucky realized he wasn't really there._

 

He was wet and sticky when he woke up, the dream leaving its mark on him, solidifying his self-hatred and plunging him into immediate guilt. He ripped the mess of blankets and sheets off, stripping down to nothing but the ring Steve gave him, hopping into the shower and scrubbing hard. Steve would be disgusted by him, if he knew, would find him absolutely revolting. Only he could get off on a dream like that, on being used.

 

The phone was ringing when he got out of the shower, body dripping cold water onto the tile, skin covered in rashes of red from the constant scrubbing, a hollowness in his chest.

 

"Hello?" He rasped, it was still early, the sun was barley up.

 

"Hey Bucky, I was thinking I could pick you up, bring you over to my place. What do you think?" Steve said, voice very bright and energetic. Bucky chewed on his lip, peeling the dead skin off with his teeth, another habit his therapist told him to quit: he didn't.

 

He didn't want to face Steve after that, after his dream, but he couldn't stay away either, he needed to reach out and touch him, needed to know he was there, needed to know that he wasn't cold.

 

"Yeah ok."

 

Bruce and Tony's place, well Steve's place too, it was quiet. Bucky looked around, it was an empty house, not much to see, a bit too clean, much too still. It was unsettling.

 

"- so anyways, it's a fully functioning robotic arm," Steve said, setting his keys down on the kitchen counter, "Tony said he has the blueprints all drawn up he just needs-"

 

"Where is everyone?" Bucky asked suddenly, interrupting Steve mid sentence.

 

Steve's smile faltered, his eyes falling.

 

"Right," he began, voice low, "about that. I've been meaning to tell you Buck I just... there was never a right time," he said, walking over to take a hasty seat on the couch, rubbing his palms against the fabric of his pants.

 

Bucky stayed standing, his hand shoved into the pocket of his jacket, his breath still with anticipation. Steve wouldn't talk though, he just put his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. Bucky averted his eyes, it was like the day he woke up to Steve crying, it was all too much, all too familiar.

 

"Um," Steve finally said, face red, "Bruce, he put his hands on Tony."

 

Bucky nodded, waiting for Steve to continue, but he didn't.

 

"Uh, he, p-put his hands on him how, exactly?" He asked.

 

Steve looked like he was trying to find the right words, he seemed stuck, like everything was trapped in his head, and Bucky was so eager to know why. He gave him another moment, the silence heavy, his head swimming.

 

"He pinned him down, and he wrapped his hands around his neck, and he-" Steve paused, sighing, "he lost control and, I had to take Tony to the ER."

 

Bucky nodded.

 

"They're broken up, I assume?" Bucky said, he didn't have the heart to say what was really on his mind. It felt like everything was falling apart at once, that his accident somehow triggered all this heartache. Steve nodded back, avoiding eye contact.

 

"Yeah, they're taking some time apart."

\\\\\

 

Mar 10, 2006

 

_He'd been looking over at Bucky, the tall one with the blue eyes, the one with the shy smile and the pretty winter coat. He walked over, offered his hand, warm and inviting, the smell of coffee and mint on his breath._

_"Hey, I'm not sure if you recognize me but we're in the same english class, I'm Steve."_

_Bucky shook his hand, of course he recognized Steve, his goofy grin, perfect lips. Steve Rogers was a beautiful stranger, a man who could make his heart skip a few beats._

_"Hi, Steve," he replied._

_"You're James right?"_

_"Yeah but I go by Bucky," he explained, "nobody really calls me James."_

 

Things go foggy after that, Bucky couldn't tell which part of his recollection was real and which part was fantasy; he didn't know if he could fully rely on his brain to tell the truth, but he thinks it went something like:

 

" _Wanna grab lunch?"_

_"Er, you mean like right now?" Bucky asked._

_Steve smiled again, shrugging his shoulders, "Yeah."_

_"I dunno, Is this like a date?" Bucky teased, biting down on his bottom lip to conceal a smile of his own. He watched Steve squirm, tug on the fabric of his winter coat, a mess of words falling out of their mouths._

_"I mean, it doesn't have to be... I- I just-"_

_"-Cool, no it's cool if it is I-"_

_"Sorry, go ahead," Bucky blushed, laughing a bit._

_"How does pizza sound?" Steve asked, eyes blown wide, his face going all soft and sweet._

_"Sounds great-"_

 

"-Steve?"

 

Bucky fumbled around in the dark for the phone, sheets wrapped around his legs, eyes dry and itchy, his head pounding like a fucking drum.

 

He grabbed it on its third ring, pressing it hard against his ear. He squinted, peering over at the clock illuminated on his bedside table - the light much too bright, the clock much too close; still it read 12:47am.

 

"Steve?"

 

"Bucky," Steve said, breath labored, "Buck, I love you so much."

 

"I-I, is everything okay?"

 

There was rustling on Steve's end, broken sobs, a few deep and concentrated breaths.

 

"I just want you to know that... that I'm not okay without you anymore," Steve managed, "and that I miss you, and I need you to come home."

 

Bucky stared ahead into the darkness, his body trembling at the sound of Steve's voice, at the seriousness behind his words.

 

"You're crying," Bucky said lowly, biting on his lip again.

 

"Something happened."

 

Bucky didn't reply, he just held his breath in anticipation, pressed the phone impossibly closer to his ear.

 

"Bruce took a bunch of pills, he... Tony found him in the bathtub, I-" he paused again, took a deep breath, "I need you with me, I need you so bad, I just need you to come home."

 

"Where are you now?" Bucky asked, he was already up and out of bed, flicking on the light-switch, tugging on a pair of sweats the best he could with one arm.

 

"The intensive care unit."

 

Steve was hunched over in a chair when Bucky arrived, a styrofoam cup barley clasped in his hands, his hair an absolute mess, stuck up in every direction. Bucky walked over to him, paused, leaning down to brush his knuckles along Steve's spine.

 

"I'm here," he whispered.

 

He held Steve the best he could, a comforting silence between them, Steve's head stuffed into the crook of Bucky's neck, his shoulders shaking. Steve said he needed Bucky, wanted him, couldn't stand to be without him - it made Bucky's eyes turn misty, made his heart melt. He needed Steve all the same.

 

"You idiots finally working it out or what?" Came Tony's voice, tired and weak. He gave Bucky a small smile, pulling him in for a hug, one that seemed to help release the tension in his body, "it's good to see you Barnes," he mumbled, pressing the side of his face to Bucky's. Bucky smiled too, rubbing his hand along Tony's back.

 

"It's good to see you too."

 

"Any updates on Bruce?" Steve asked quietly, nodding his head towards the room where Bruce was being held.

 

Tony pulled away from Bucky, a sigh escaping his lips, "uh, yeah he's gonna be okay..." he began, rubbing at the back of his neck, "but they're taking him to a psychiatric ward, they're gonna keep em there for a few days."

 

Steve didn't know what to say, Bucky didn't know either. Tony just shrugged, tears welling up in his big brown eyes.

 

"It's gonna be okay," he assured, "everything's gonna be ok."

 

Steve pulled him in for another hug, kissing his tear stained cheek. Tony simply shooed him away, smiling faintly as he spoke, "You guys look exhausted, why don't you head home, I'll call you if there are anymore updates."

 

"If you're sure," Steve said, he eyed Tony warily, apprehension covering his features.

 

"I'm sure."

 

So Bucky let Steve take him home, their home, stripped off his jacket, and his sweats can and his shoes, and crawled into bed beside him.

 

And as his eyelids grew heavy, the sting of the day fading with each and every slow blink, an arm around Steve's waist, his cheek against his chest, Bucky realized that Tony was right, everything was going to be ok.

\\\\\

 

Mar 17, 2006

 

"-you and my mom in the kitchen, she was teaching you how to make chocolate chunk muffins," Steve said, pointing to a photo of Steve's mother wiping batter off of Bucky's chin, an absolutely contagious smile on his face.

 

Bucky's mouth quirked up in a smile.

 

"I love chocolate muffins. Well I love anything with chocolate really."

 

Steve gave him a look then, a look that said "I know something you don't," and then he grinned like an idiot, kissing Bucky's temple.

 

"This is from our first road trip, you insisted on driving the entire time so I could 'enjoy the scenery," he explained.

 

Bucky's had one hand on the wheel in the photo, his hair a mess from the wind. He had his head tilted towards the window, his mouth open just a tad, the sun filtering through the car like golden hour on a Sunday afternoon.

 

"I think we were listening to the Beatles in the car that day, you were singing along, you've got a very nice voice," Steve said, looking around for another photo.

 

Bucky was about to make a sly comment about his voice being "not that impressive," before he caught a glimpse of something, his heart stopping.

 

"What're these?" He asked, grabbing a trio of photos.

 

"Oh, uh. Those are from our honeymoon. Yeah we never really took photos like that, they're kind of embarrassing to get developed but..."

 

They were photos of the pair in bed, Steve's mouth on Bucky's, their bodies connected. To be fair there wasn't anything explicit about the photos, but there was something shocking about it for Bucky, seeing himself in that scenario, a scenario he didn't remember. He frowned, sliding the pictures away.

 

"Steve?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

Bucky turned to look at him, his eyes already searching for answers.

 

"How come after the accident, when you brought me home... I mean the first few weeks were fine, better! Better than fine, they were amazing. And then you... you started acting like you didn't care about me anymore and..."

 

Bucky realized he could've worded things better, in fact he realized "things" should've never left his mouth in the first place. He sighed, looking down at the photos in front of him, what he would've given to be Steve's Bucky.

 

"I never stopped caring about you, Buck,"

Steve said, his tone serious, his eyes glossy.

 

"Then why were you so...," Bucky shook his head, trying to find the right words, Steve had been so cold.

 

"I got a call from the psychiatrist who evaluated you at the hospital," Steve began, "she told me that your memory was much worse than we originally thought. She... she told me to take it easy with you, to let you adjust and to let you make your own decisions... she basically told me to not pressure you into continuing our relationship."

 

Steve's words hit Bucky like a shovel. He placed his hand on Steve's shoulder, rubbing his thumb along the skin.

 

"I never meant to push you away and when you left I.. I realized I let you down, and I've been trying to make up for it ever since," Steve explained, he was crying at that point, tears washing down his face, staining his cheeks.

 

"Do you still love me? The way I am now?"

 

Steve chuckled, wrapping his arms around Bucky's neck.

 

"I love you so much it hurts," he said softly, "you're still the same Bucky, the same man I fell in love with, you haven't changed at all."

 

It was Bucky's turn to laugh, he'd changed in every way imaginable, hardly felt like himself most of the time, but Steve didn't seem to think so, he claimed to love him all the same, and maybe that's all that mattered.

 

Bucky leaned in to kiss him, mouths soft and synced and wet with tears. It tasted like home, somehow Steve's mouth, and his embrace, and his breathy moans in Bucky's ear - it all felt like home.

 

They ended up in Steve's bed, their bed, Bucky's legs wrapped around the blonde, his feet balancing on the small of his back. Steve kissed Bucky's neck lovingly, hands working on removing his pants with ease, a small gasp leaving Bucky's lips as soon as he was naked, pressed against Steve, the friction causing them both to give a little moan.

 

He thought maybe he should turn over, maybe that's how Steve liked it best, face down, his hands on Bucky's hips. So he unhooked his legs from Steve's back, turned over quickly, his body tensing up immediately, his brows drawn together, anticipating pain.

 

But all that came was Steve's hands gently turning him back over, their eyes locking, a small smile on Steve's face.

 

"You never liked it face down," he whispered, his hand on Bucky's cheek, their lips coming together in something sweet, and tender, and warm.

\\\\\

 

Jul 05, 2006

 

"How does it feel," Tony asked, stepping away from Bucky in order to admire his work. Bucky flexed and un-flexed the metal arm, each finger moving independently, the fluid motions causing his brain to stutter in response.

 

"It's amazing Tony," he said, lifting his arm to show Steve.

 

Tony had given up on his AI vehicle blueprints, put them on ice in attempt to help Bucky. The idea for the metal arm came from Bruce, he suggested making a fully functioning limb that could be controlled by the brain, the longer it was worn the better it got at understanding the brains feedback. It was Tony's best work yet.

 

"Shit I gotta go, I'm visiting Bruce for lunch," Tony mumbled, taking one last look at Bucky's arm before gathering his things to leave.

 

"Tell him we say hi."

 

Tony gave them both a salute, letting himself out the front door with a soft click.

 

Steve peered over at Bucky, watching as the brunette explored the movements of his new hand. He was mesmerized by it, the way it could mimic his flesh hand, it made him feel complete, made him human again.

 

"What?" Bucky asked, finally taking notice to Steve's staring.

 

Steve simply walked over and took Bucky's hand, running his thumb over the ring there, a thoughtful look on his face.

 

"Do you think you could ever see yourselfmarrying me?" he asked nonchalantly.

 

Bucky paused, his shoulders pulling up in a shrug, eyes going all misty.

 

"Yeah, I suppose I could."


End file.
